And I Always Will Be
by Zenamydog
Summary: Dean has always looked after Sam. It's been his life's mission. But Sam had a mission too; Dean just didn't know it… Please check warnings.


**Title:** And I Always Will Be.

**Author:** Zenamydog

**Rating:** PG 13.

**Warnings:** Written through slashed colored glasses.

**Disclaimer:** Kripke and Singer own Sam and Dean… Damn it! 

**AN:** I'm back, writing. Please let me know if I've still got their voices.

**Summary:** Dean has always looked after Sam. It's been his life's mission. But Sam had a mission too; Dean just didn't know it…

Sam slid to sit closer to his brother. They were now side-by-side, a hairs-breath from touching knees and shoulders. The finest whisper of air, the barricade to them both finally breaking down.

Sam knew that once they touched, once they both acknowledged that this was it, then…

He lowered his head. He seriously had no idea how to start a conversation like this.

He found it was strange really, how the mind wandered sometimes. It played procrastination games with itself in order to delay saying the things you knew you should. What he wanted to say. What he needed to say got totally lost when something almost forgotten spilled from his lips instead.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you know that Dad…?" Sam swallowed hard, only just now realizing what he was about to confess.

Dean looked at him. Suddenly more attentive at the mention of their father.

"Did you know Dad put me in the hospital once?"

"Okay… Random." Dean grinned, then furrowed his brow. "He took you… us… to the hospital lots of times, Sammy. What's your point?"

There was innocence in his brother's question. A look in his eyes. Admiration maybe? He had always seen perfection in their Dad. Did he really want to change that?

Problem was, Sam knew better. He wasn't really sure why he felt compelled to mention this now. He almost re-thought his decision to tell Dean.

"No, Dean." Sam was deliberately soft toned. "_He_ put me in the hospital once."

Sam watched as the slow dawning of understanding spread across his brother's face.

Dean's hand curled into a fist and his eyes widened ever so slightly. His voice cracked when he asked Sam, "You mean Dad made a mistake during a hunt and you had got hurt?" Dean's eyes shifted to pleading. "Right?"

Sam shook his head slightly. "No. He beat me to within an inch of my life."

Dean shifted and moved to sit sideways. "What?" His voice was barely audible.

Rage, disbelief, fear and guilt. All four emotions played across Dean's face, guilt, always dominant in Dean's screwed up sense of priorities.

"That doesn't even make sense, Sammy. I mean… How could I possibly not know about something like that?"

"Remember the skinwalker you killed, down in South Dakota?"

Dean grinned. "Yeah course. Took Caleb and I near on three months to track the slimy bastard. In the end we had to…" There was a beat of silence as Dean's grin faded. "He did that while I was away hunting with Caleb?"

Sam could see the slight tremor in Dean's fisted hand. Rage and disbelief fighting for superiority.

Sam nodded.

"Well, why? I mean… What did you do, Sammy? Dad wouldn't hurt you on purpose. Was he possessed or something? He… he wouldn't do that."

Disbelief was clearly winning.

**000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

Dean looked at his brother for long seconds. _That's not what he means, _ echoed in his head. "What did you do?" spilled from his lips again before he could help himself.

Sam stood, hurt in his eyes and anger on his face.

_Shit._ "I didn't mean it like that, Sammy. Not… What happened?"

"Well…" Sam took a calming breath. "A combination of things I think. To this day I'm not positive, but…" Sam shrugged.

Sam moved to the bedside table and poured himself a glass of water from the jug sitting there. He took long sips, before meeting Dean's eyes.

"I back-talked him, when he told me to leave him alone," Sam stated flatly.

Dean raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Nothing new about that, Sammy." A small smirk, tentatively on his lips. He braced inwardly before asking the next question. "What could you possibly say that could make Dad hit you?" Hmm? He thought for a second. "No… Wait… There's probably a lot you could say that would make him thump you, but---,"

"I asked him a question." Sam moved to sit on the tiny twin sofa in the corner of the room. "He was drunk. Well… On his way, anyhow. He was totally messed up from the hunt. I… I guess it was different. There was no pretense that he was okay. He came home, asked about you and sat down at the table. Then he pulled out two bottles of tequila and started drinking them. He was only half way through the first when he started rambling about this Ragnar they had finally killed." Sam glanced up.

"They?"

Sam shrugged. "I'll never know for sure, who, but he definitely had a partner this time."

Dean noted the oh-so-subtle shift in his brother's eyes. Sam knew.

"Anyhow," Sam continued as Dean joined him on the sofa. "He said something about killing people and not signing on for that part of the job, but he wasn't really making sense. He was talking about demons and Mom… Just… Rambling."

Dean studied his little brother as he spoke. There was a quiver in his voice, so minute, Dean knew only he could possibly detect it.

Hot tears pricked at Dean's eyes as Sam related how he had listened to their Father's drunken tirade, long enough to put together that their Dad had killed a human being. Sam had assumed it was a simple case of _had to be done,_ like with a vampire or werewolf. The human it got into, never survived.

John would always angst over those kinds of hunts. Even more so if it were a child.

"I was wrong," Sam said, bringing Dean's focus back.

"About, what?"

Sam took a breath… Whatever it was, Sammy was hesitating. Tears showed in his brother's eyes and Dean didn't fight the instinct to reach out and place his hand on his brother's. He really didn't care about 'chick-flick' moments anymore. "About what?" Dean repeated.

"I think that was the hunt where… Where dad killed, Jo's dad. Bill Harvelle."

"What?" Dean withdrew his hand. "What do you mean, killed? Dad screwed up… Maybe… Got him killed, maybe, but no---,"

"Bill was dying," Sam choked on the words. "He was basically severed in two, but… Somehow he was still alive. He begged Dad to end it." Sam let out a deliberate breath. "He did."

Dean took the information in as he looked into his brother's bloodshot eyes. "How could you possibly know that, for sure?"

Sam's one word answer left no doubt. "Meg."

Dean nodded. A bitter taste forming in his mouth. It happened so long ago and yet, it still stung. A demon got to his baby brother, again.

"What did you ask Dad, Sammy?"

Sam's bottom lip trembled. "I thought he was talking about someone that had a monster inside," Sam's brow creased. "I asked him what it was like to kill a human, a real person."

"Oh…" Dean tried for a smirk, but only managed a sad grin. "Real subtle, Sammy."

There was a beat of silence before Dean asked, "So… Why are you telling me all this, now?"

Sam's eyes drifted as he wiped away a spilt tear with the back of his hand. "It's the only thing I've never told you… Well, that and the fact that I DID make out with Julie Parmer after the spring dance, in tenth grade." He grinned.

Dean chuckled slightly. He delayed the urge to make a smart comeback, something to joke the intensity of the moment away. "Sammy?"

Sam looked directly into his eyes. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.

"I'm sorry Dad hurt you," Dean started. The thought of having to protect Sammy from their own father, almost incomprehensible, but...

"Dean," Sam warned.

"I want you to know something," Dean continued, ignoring him. "If I was there. If Dad started…" Dean suddenly felt bile rise up to his throat.

Sam stayed silent while Dean concealed the crack in his voice the best he could, with a cough.

"He wouldn't have hurt you, Sammy. Not if I was there." Dean blinked back the water in his eyes. "I swear… He wouldn't have got close enough."

Something shifted in the air almost immediately. Dean knew Sam sensed it, too. That wisp of air was gone. The barricade in shambles when, this time, Sam placed his hand on Dean's.

Dean grabbed Sam's hand and stood, making Sam stand, too.

"Julie Parmer, huh? You dog. "Dean tried to lighten the mood as he led Sam to his bed. "You told me you came straight home. Ya said that you didn't even kiss her goodnight… She was hot, dude, why didn't you tell me?"

Sam smiled for the first time since the conversation had begun. He got into bed and Dean turned off the lights before, crawling in behind him.

Dean wrapped protective arms around his brother and curled comfortably in, shifting the pillow slightly. Dean had given up resisting. He knew enough finally, to know, that physical comfort, especially now, was a good thing.

"Dean?" Sam said sleepily as he shifted his weight closer to mold better into their spooning positions.

"Hmm?"

"I know you would have protected me." Sammy breathed out, uncertainty in his voice. "I also know you would have called him on it, if I had told you… Then when Dad died, it didn't matter, cuz… Well… Was why I didn't, anyhow." Sam shrugged slightly.

Dean responded by squeezing Sam's arm lightly and moving impossibly closer.

"Thanks for being here, man… Thanks for always being here," Sam slurred, sleep catching up to him. A stillness hung between them momentarily, before Sam's breath evened out.

Dean brushed his nose against Sam's hair. "And I always will be," he spoke quietly into his brother's ear. "Sleep now, Sammy. It's okay just to sleep."

Dean couldn't stop himself from curling some of Sam's hair around his ear. Hot, unshed tears, forced their way out and down his face, but a full-fledged smirk started to grow on his lips, because, really… Had they not already beaten every odd known to man, just to make it this far?

Dean filled with a sense of pride. "You know I'd follow you to hell and back again, if I had to." His smile was melancholy.

Sam stirred a little, sighing as he moved.

Dean waited for Sammy to settle, before shifting once again to whisper in his ear, "I made a promise to you, little brother. I'll never let you be alone again."

**0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000**

"Jeanie!" Claire called out and waved her friend over to the small booth she had managed to nab.

Jeanie sat down and picked up a menu. Claire could see straight away that she'd been crying. "What's wrong?" Claire asked, already guessing at the answer.

"Do you remember the Winchesters?"

Claire's eyes glistened immediately. Of course she knew who the Winchester's were. Everybody knew Sam and Dean.

"Which one?" she asked hesitantly. One of them had obviously died.

"Both."

Claire was a nurse, too, for a different ward. She flinched at the improbability. "Both? How? I mean…" Her face paled. "Murder, suicide? Accident?"

Jeanie shrugged. "Sister Margret found them asleep, curled around each other, like usual. She said that she rarely found Dean asleep in his own bed anymore, so she just ignored them and coughed. They didn't budge."

"Wait." Claire needed to back up. "They shared the same bed? I thought they were brothers?"

Jeanie kind of smiled. A look of compassion in her eyes. "Brothers… Yeah…" She said it as if that in itself was explanation enough. "They use to freak me out sometimes, how they'd finish each other's sentences."

"Dean must have been good-looking in his day," Claire sighed.

"Hey," Greg said as he slid into the booth.

"Where have you been," Jeanie asked in mock anger, when the third member of their lunch group appeared. "We've been waiting. I'm starving."

Greg grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I hung back to get the results on the…" Greg's smile faded quickly. "You both know about Sam and Dean, right?" A sincere concern crossed his face.

Jeanie and Claire both gave sad smiles and nodded.

"Well… Everyone's saying they both just overdosed together or something. That they decided to go at the same time. Everyone's got a theory." He blushed a little. "Especially those who bought into their stories about the so-called 'hunting years'.

Jeanie smirked and raised a curious eyebrow.

"I was just asking before about cause." Claire frowned. "They didn't, I mean…"

"Natural causes," Greg announced almost triumphantly. "No toxic substances, whatsoever. Nothing out of the ordinary. From the rigor mortis…" Greg grinned. Sorry, but he was a coroner, after all. "It appears Sammy went several hours before his brother, like… like Dean just followed him or something."

"Seriously?" Claire asked as she leaned forward.

Jeanie sat back and drew in a long, slow breath. _Appropriate_ and _I'm glad they stayed together_ crossed her mind as a small tear ran down her cheek and she let her eyes drift to the sign at the front of the institution.

**Angel of God. **

**Nursing home.**

**THE END**


End file.
